Tangled Webs
by Kari Anna
Summary: PeterHarry slash. AU. They've never kept secrets from each other. But now each knows the other is hiding something. Can love really overcome all?
1. Prologue

Author's Note: Title may be subject to change. Or it may not. Lol. I do have a tendency to change titles a lot though. It would drive a publisher nuts, but that way, you've considered most of the options and find the one you think is best for the story. By the way, this is AU, so that explains Harry and Peter meeting so early in life. And Peter's parents died in that plane crash, but a couple of months before the prologue starts.

DISCLAIMER: (Man I hate these.) Roses are red, violets are blue, I will be too, if I get sued.

ON WITH THE FIC!

**Prologue**

Five-year-old Harry Osborn appeared steady as a rock as he entered the kindergarten classroom, but inside he wanted nothing more than to run home, up to his room, and hide under his bed. Not because he was afraid of being picked on-- he wasn't afraid of that. What scared him was the thought of being rejected. He was not a social butterfly.

As little Harry looked around, his mother, Emily let go of his hand and placed a hand on his back to urge him forward. Hiding his reluctance, Harry went further into the room. It was sheer chaos just then. Loud noises of the kind that come from those annoying Tonka toys, and from toy musical instruments were sounding from all over the room, swirling together in a chorus of something even the most hardcore rocker wouldn't dare call music. Two children were chasing each other with jars of paint, dipping their paintbrushes in, then taking aim and splotching each other with paint with a flick of the wrist. One girl was standing on her tiptoes to reach a box on top of a shelf. Several children were fighting over a Barney plush toy. A boy in a corner was screaming incoherently about something being unfair.

The only one besides Harry who seemed to be calm was a little boy sitting at one of the ugly yellow Munchkin-sized tables, putting together a 50-peice puzzle. Harry smiled. He liked puzzles. He seated himelf on a chair on the side of the table opposite the other boy and said, "Hi, my name's Harry. What's yours?"

The other boy looked up and studied Harry for a moment before replying shyly, "My name is Peter. Do you wanna help me put this puzzle together?"

Harry grinned and nodded. Peter smiled back, and shifted the box with the pieces in it so that both of them could reach it and they set to work on the puzzle.

**

* * *

**

**Later**

The boys' kindergarten teacher, Ms. Healey, announced that it was time for everyone to go home. As Emily stood in the doorway, she noticed her son's change in attitude. Instead of the deep frown he'd been wearing when she'd dropped him off, he was now smiling broadly. Harry was talking animatedly with another little boy. They both jumped up and down for a moment, then Harry ran over with the other boy in tow.

Looking up at her, Harry said, "Mommy, this is my new friend Peter. Can he come over canhecanheplease?"

Emily smiled. She had been so afraid her son wouldn't make any friends. He didn't tend to socialize much. "If it's alright with his parents he can."

"I live with my auntie, May and my uncle Ben," Peter said. Pointing, he said, "There's Auntie May." He bounced over to the woman and said, "Auntie May I made a new friend today. His name is Harry. That's him and his mom over there. Harry stopped a big kid from hitting me earlier. Can I go over to his house to play? Pretty please?"

Aunt May seemed surprised. "My, Petie, you've had quite a day, haven't you? I suppose we can go over to Harry's a while." She had let Peter drag her over to Emily and Harry, and shook hand with the younger woman as she introduced herself, "May Parker."

"Emily Osborn. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too."

"Here's our address." Emily jotted it down on a peice of paper and handed it to May, who wrote her address on another piece of paper and handed that to Emily. "See you soon, I hope." Stooping down to Peter's level, she ruffled his hair and said, "And I hope to see you soon again too, Peter."

Peter smiled shyly. "Bye, Harry. See you tomorrow."

"Bye Pete," Harry shouted back as Peter and May disappeared out the door of the classroom.

"Harry, did you really defend Peter from a bully?" Emily asked as she led her son to their car. Usually he just walked away when someone picked on him. It had surprised her to hear that Harry had defended his little friend.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah. No big deal." That last phrase left Emily to wonder. Well, the knowledge that her son had stood up to a bully in any case gave her food for thought.

"Well, honey, let's go home." Emily started the car and they drove off.

* * *

I made Harry a bit protective of Peter to set the stage for later. This could prove to be a challenge. (_grins)_ I love challenges! Especially writing challenges! I have lots of ideas for this story. I'm no good at leaving plot lines alone, so this may end up very, VERY AU. Unless I can restrain myself somewhat. Peter will still be Spider-Man,Norman will still become Gobby and die the same way as in the movie (I think) but other things may undergo drastic changes. Don't know if I'll include any citrus. I've never written straight or slash citrus. We'll see, since I never really plan out what I'm going to write anyway.


	2. A Bite and Food for Thought

Author's Note: The last chap dealt with our heroes at age 5. The first chapter will skip straight to their trip to the lab in high school. Nothing terribly significant has happened since Peter and Harry met, or if it has it'll be included as a flashback somewhere most likely.

DISCLAIMER: Send no blood-sucking lawyers! I'm not so dense as to believe I own Spidey or any part of his world.

mythical gurl: Thank you! Lol, I couldn't wait for the story to get going either, so since this chappie is rather long I started typing it up almost immediately. So here's chapter one! (gives chapter and bag of sugar cookies)

Gold Silk: Yeah, I like Spidey-slash. Harry and Peter make a cute couple, but it sucks how everyone always writes it so that either Harry is abusive or Peter is atoning for killing Harry's father. (gives big bag of chocolate chip cookies)

Gramma makes the cookies... I can't cook to save my life lol!

**Chapter One: A Bite and Food for Thought**

Harry snapped out of memories of that first day at kindergarten just in time to avoid smacking into Flash. He occasionally stood up to the guy, but only on Peter's behalf. Mostly he kept himself from getting on the guy's bad side in the first place. Flash just picked on Peter because he was different. And smart, which made Flash look like an idiot.

_Not that Flash needs help to do THAT,_ thought Harry wryly.

His father had just embarrassed him by driving up in the Rolls. Flaunting his money was something Harry never liked to do. He had done it a few times before and whenever he did, people thought he was a snob. Then people tended to ignore him. The problem was, it was never Harry's idea to flaunt the cash. Norman Osborn, his father, was the culprit. The overmuch worry with his son had started after Emily's death, so Harry didn't have the heart to tell Norman to back down. Thus he had offered far less protest than he wanted to about the Rolls. That, in turn, lost him the argument.

Needless to say, Harry wasn't looking to draw more attention to himself. Next to him stood Peter Parker, his best friend, deep in thought. While Peter's attention was elsewhere, Harry took the opportunity to study the other boy's face. Brow furrowed in thought or concern. Blue eyes the shade not long after sunrise, when the canvas of the sky gets its first splash of pale blue paint. Full mouth. Sharp chin, but with just enough remaining baby fat to make Peter look a little younger.

_And incredibly sweet and innocent,_ Harry thought. He had long ago realized he had little interest in girls, and lots in his best friend. Who, in turn, was not interested in Harry, but in his next door neighbor, Mary Jane Watson: coincidentally the most popular girl in school since first grade. And way out of Peter's league, since he was so low on the social ladder.

He saw a side of Peter that other people didn't get to see, though. The side that didn't talk _solely_ about education, college, and science. The side that was fun-loving and carefree. Like when Harry took Peter with him when his dad made him go to Six Flags last summer. Pete had dragged him onto nearly every ride at least three times. Harry also saw the side of Peter that hurt when people made snide remarks about his intelligence, and called him a dork. Being a bit protective of the other teen, Harry often found himself angry at the other students. Maybe it was a good thing that he too was a bit of an outsider.

The teacher snapped both boys out of it by whacking a ruler loudly against his clipboard. He announced that they were going into the lab and that if anyone touched anything in there they would fail his class for the remainder of the year. Then he led them inside.

Staring in awe, Peter rambled to Harry, stating random facts about various objects in the lab. Despite how boring that was, most of the information sunk into Harry's brain because he tried so hard to take an interest. Peter took a few photos for the school paper. Then Harry walked up to Mary Jane. He wanted to talk to her for his friend. Harry _was_ infatuated with the boy, but he wasn't selfish. He did want his best friend to be happy.

Mary Jane stood in front of some of the genetically-altered spiders, bent over to get a closer look at one in a lower row. Remembering a fact Peter had told him, Harry told MJ, " Spiders can change their color to blend in with their environment, you know. It's a..." what was the phrase Peter had used? _Oh yeah,_ "defense mechanism."

The redhead smiled at him. "Really? Cool. I didn't know that. I love spiders. They're so disgusting!" Harry was more than a little bewildered at how anyone could like something that disgusted them. _To each his own though,_ he thought. _Or her own, in this case._ Before he had a chance to tell her who had taught him the fact he'd just recited, she spoke up again. "So, do you want to have dinner with me tonight?"

_Oh boy,_ thought Harry, glancing at Peter. Thankfully he was distracted just then, talking to one of the scientists who worked in the lab. Before Harry think of a tactful way to turn MJ down, however, she said, "Great. Pick me up at seven. See ya then." And then she was gone.

* * *

Harry'd been kind of quiet, and Peter was a little worried about him. One eye peeked through his camera lens at a student posing with the spiders, his other eye was on Harry. He never saw the spider coming, and never felt it crawling on his hand. Peter thanked the student as she walked away. Out of the blue, there was a little stab of pain on his hand. 

_Yowch! Ei chi wawa, that hurt! _He flicked my wrist to free his hand of the little pest. Just in time to catch a glimpse of the spider that bit him, he looked down. _Odd._ It was dark blue, with a strange red pattern on its back.

**

* * *

**

**  
6:30 P.M.**

It wasn't that far to MJ's, but New York traffic had made it all but impossible to make it there on time, even though Harry had given himself half an hour to get there. He'd spent most of the day trying to justify to himself that he had gone on a date with his best friend's life-long crush. It wasn't too hard. First off, his father kept pushing him to get a girlfriend, someone pretty he could show off for the cameras that followed the Osborns like flies followed dump trucks. Then, there was the incredibly absurd thought that if Peter felt anything for him beyond friendship, maybe he'd be jealous of Mary Jane.

_If not_, he knew this next thought was childish, _at least I get a little revenge._

Eventually the date ended and they reached MJ's house. He dropped her off and went to see Peter, just one door to the right of MJ. A shooting star shot through the sky, just over Peter's house, from where Harry stood. For a moment, he indulged in the childhood habit of wishing on it, and he wished that someday his heart wouldn't feel the lonely ache it did now. With a sigh, the teen ran a hand through his brown and blond curls.

_What a mess. I love Pete, Pete loves MJ, and MJ drags ME on a date! God Almighty, what a mess!_ thought Harry. Inwardly, Harry was miffed at MJ for being shallow enough not to like Peter simply because most people thought he was 'just a geek.' _Oh well. If she can't like him for who he is, then she doesn't deserve him. He's too good for her._ Pause. Then, _Guess I'll go drop in on Peter._

He got out of the car, and made his way toward the Parker house.

**

* * *

**

**Earlier, right after the field trip**

Peter rushed in the door, letting his backpack and coat slide down his shoulders to somewhere on the living room floor. He felt like he had a really high fever. Dizzy and drowsy too. He also felt like his stomach was eager to show its disapproval of his lunch. Vaguely, he wondered if he had the flu. That would explain it. _Or maybe it has to do with that spider bite._

Through the sickness-induced haze, he recognized the worried voices of his gaurdians. Somehow he even managed to register their words, and make a reply.

"Peter! Are you alright?" asked Aunt May.

"I don't feel good Aunt May."

"Well did you have a good time on your trip?" Uncle Ben spoke up.

Tiredly, "Uh-huh."

Aunt May again, "Well aren't you going to stay for a bite?"

His amusement not coming through in his voice or expression, "Had a bite. I'm going upstairs now. Goodnight."

Then he was upstairs, and slammed his bedroom door shut. Peter lay down on the floor next to his bed, too tired to pull himself up onto it. Suddenly he no longer felt like he had a fever. No, he was freezing instead. _So cold. Who turned the air conditioner up so high? No, we don't have an air conditioner. So cold,_ he thought. He managed to reach up and pull a blanket from his bed, down onto his shivering body. Darkness claimed him.

**

* * *

**

He knocked on the Parkers' front door, and only had to wait a few seconds for the door to open. May Parker smiled at him. "Hello, Harry. Come in." She stepped aside to allow him passage. When he came in she shut the door behind him. There wasn't a foyer or anything between the front door and the living room, so Harry instantly saw Ben. The older man was sitting on an armchair, flipping through the channels with the detachment of boredom. He looked a bit less bored when he noticed Harry.

"Hello Osborn."

"Hey Ben. Where's Peter? I need to talk to him."

Ben's graying eyebrows furrowed in concern. "He ran upstairs as soon as he got home. Said something about not feeling well."

Harry frowned. "Mind if I go check on him?" Both Parkers shook their heads.

Harry went up to his friend's room, and when he opened the door, he gasped.

Skin a sickly white, shaking like LA in an earthquake, his face contorted with pain, Peter made a frightening sight. Peter's hands clutched a plaid flannel blanket over him, but from the goosebumps on his pale skin it wasn't enough. Harry quickly made his way to the linen closet down the hall, and found a few spare blankets. He went back to Peter's room and set the blankets down for a moment. First things first. That floor had to be uncomfortable. He picked up the smaller teen, princess style. Holding him felt... nice. Peter was still shaking with lack of warmth though, and unconciously tried to lean into the source of warmth that held him. Harry felt his face flush, and he set the still shivering boy on the bed. Then Harry spread the blankets over Peter. In a few minutes, the boy stopped shaking. He still looked incredibly pale, and his facial expression still showed pain, but at least he would sleep a little more peacefully.

Harry took off down the stairs at such a pace that he had to grab the railing twice to keep from taking a nasty tumble. The Parkers must have seen the panic in his eyes, because they asked almost simultaneously what was wrong.

Harry took a deep breath, this time to calm himself. "Peter isn't doing too hot. When I went up there-- well, I think he needs to go to a hospital or something. He's unconcious and he looks like... like he's got hypothermia or something."

May and Ben frowned. "May, call the doctor. I'll carry Peter down and get the car started."

"Oh no you don't, Ben Parker. You're not as young as you once were, and your back isn't in perfect condition as it is. I don't want you throwing your back out again. I'm sure Harry won't mind carrying Peter down to the car for us, right Harry?" May shot him a look that said he better agree. He would have answered affirmatively anyway, even without 'The Look.' Again he climbed the stairs and entered Peter's room. Blankets and all, he lifted the other boy.

As he passed through the living room he heard May on the phone in the kitchen, talking to the family's doctor. Outside, he barely noticed the frigid night air. The afterlight left from sunset revealed that Ben was already in the car. It was running on idle as Harry slid onto the cold backseat of the stationwagon, still holding his unconcious best friend. He had to lean over Peter's head, which was on his lap, to close the door. Peter stirred.

Harry watched intently, as did Ben, both hoping for some sign that Peter was going to be okay. His blue eyes slowly opened, as if even that small movement was a strain on his energy.

"Harry?" he asked, his voice quiet with exhaustion. Peter couldn't help but be puzzled at waking up to find himself looking straight into his best friend's brown eyes. Which revealed concern, Peter noticed as a little of the fog cleared from his mind.

"Hey Pete," Harry's voice was equally quiet, as if he were afraid to shatter the near-silence that hung in the air. "How ya feeling, buddy?"

Peter groaned. "Does it answer your question if I ask if you got the license plate number on that semi?"

"That bad, huh? Well, we're taking you to a doctor." Ben smiled when he heard Harry say 'we.' Though the boy hadn't been invited, the older man knew the two were inseperable, and it would be useless to tell Harry to go home. Not that he wanted him to. May wouldn't let him carry Peter, and he didn't think the boy would be up to walking. Plus the kid might be able to keep Peter distracted at the doctor's office. Peter loathed and feared needles. If the doctor needed to run any blood tests or anything like that, it'd be good for him to have his attention on something other than the needles.

"I'd rather not. I'm starting to feel better already." Skepticism met the latter statement as Harry, Ben and May (who had just entered the station wagon and was up front next to her husband) all started to protest. "No, really. I am."

May gave her nephew The Look and said, "Peter Parker, you are going to the doctor and that is that." Then she turned around in her seat to face forward once more, crossing her arms. The subject was obviously closed to discussion. When May put her foot down, it was best not to argue. "Is everyone buckled in?" she asked, the sternness gone from her tone. Everyone was buckled, with the exception of Peter, who lay across the entire back seat, his head still on Harry's lap. "Let's go then."

**

* * *

**

As time passed, Peter's strength was slowly returning. His symptoms had faded to being almost gone. Having earlier said something about being tired of laying down and sitting, he now stood, leaning against a wall. Harry stood next to him, in case he fell over like he had a few minutes ago. The doctor was, as Ben had predicted, running some blood tests.

Finally, the man entered the waiting room the small group was in. The doctor's white lab coat billowed behind him as he quickly crossed the room. His face was flushed, as if he had been frustrated, and his glasses were about to fall off his nose. He pushed them back up, and said with frustration, "All the results came up negative, but the symptoms were too strong for you to have merely had the flu, Peter. Are you sure nothing else happened today? Anything. _Anything_ that could have caused this. Think hard."

Racking his brain, Peter came up with nothing...until he remembered the spider that bit him in the lab on the field trip that day. "A spider bit me. I've never seen one like it before. It had odd coloring." The doctor urged him to continue. "It was dark blue, with red markings, and it hurt like crazy when the little bugger bit me. The bite area swelled up pretty good too."

"Where did it bite you?" Peter showed the doctor the bite on his hand. It was pretty good-sized still, and a rather dark pink. "Hmm... I see. Well, that might have done it if you were allergic to that type of spider's venom. Try to avoid that kind of spider from now on. Oh, and don't push yourself tonight. Try to rest. Mrs. Parker, don't let the boy over-exert himself." May nodded. "Well, I'd say it's safe for everyone to go home now."

Harry and Ben supported the still weak Peter as he walked out to the car. He refused to be carried anymore.

Ben let go of his nephew to unlock the car. As soon as the station wagon was unlocked, Harry helped Peter into the back seat, and slid in next to him. Then they started back to the Parker house. When they got there, May asked Harry, "Why don't you two go talk for a while, and I'll put on some tea and snacks."

Upstairs, Peter sat on his bed, and Harry took a seat on the chair in front of his friend's desk. Comfortable silence filled the room a while. Then, "Weird how that spider bite affected me. Wonder if it'll have any other effects."

Now that Peter mentioned it, Harry began to worry for his friend. _What if the symptoms earlier were just a prelude to a storm that has yet to come?_ Harry wondered, biting his lip with anxiety.

"Hey, I didn't mean to make you worry. There probably won't be anything more from it. There won't be. I'm sure of it," Peter said, trying to reassure Harry. "You look tired. You oughtta go home and get some rest."

Harry nodded and moved to exit. In the doorway, he stopped, looked over his shoulder. Worry was still evident in his expressive brown eyes. "If anything happens, call me."

"I will," Peter promised. Harry nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

**

* * *

**

**At the Osborn mansion**

Harry strode in, exhausted and ready to fall on his bed and sleep. He trudged across the living room, up the stairs, and passed the open door of his father's study. Norman spent most of his time there. It was his office away from office. Harry doubled back. His eyes widened. His fatigue vanished, for the moment.

What he saw shocked him. Valuable vases lay in piles of shards. Portraits and paintings worth their weight in gold had holes and rips in them. There was a thick, sturdy beer mug lying on the rug, a wet spot in front of it, and a couple of stubborn drops remained clinging to the mug. In the middle of all this mess lay Norman Osborn, unconcious.

This wasn't the first time Harry had seen his father unconcious from too much alcohol. Ever since his mother's death, his father would occasionally drink himself into oblivion. This time was different though. His father had been drunk occasionally, but only became more depressed before passing out. Never had he gone into a rage. Yet from the look of the room, it was obvious he had gotten pretty riled up sometime that night. That worried Harry. He wondered if he should tell Peter. _No. Dad didn't hit me. I wasn't here to _get_ hit, but still, he didn't hit me. Besides, Peter has enough on his plate._

Harry closed the door to his father's study, and once again headed for his room. When he got there, despite his exhaustion, he couldn't sleep. Over and over his mind replayed his discovery in his father's study. Norman was a strict man, true, and a drinker sometimes. But never violent. The man's temper always went into words, rather than actions. It wasn't the type of temper that had caused the damage to that room.

_I hope._

TBC...


	3. Secrets, Part I

DISCLAIMER: It's not mine, 'cept the plot, get the owners to impose a jail sentence and fine, and you'll get knocked on your bott! Lol.

**Chapter Two: Secrets (Part I)  
**  
Peter woke feeling surprisingly well rested, considering the previous night's ordeal. Sleep lingered in his eyes and mind as he threw off his covers. He shuffled to the closet, and pulled out whatever shirt and pants his hand happened to land on. He didn't bother to look at the clothes he held. The teen shuffled out of his room, to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Half asleep, he stepped into the warm spray and washed up. The shower finished waking him up, and he turned off the water. His hand groped for the towel he'd left on the towel rack. He didn't dare step out of the shower without drying off somewhat. Aunt May had complained often that wet bodies were ruining the linoleum in the bathroom. He shook his head at the irony. _Aunt May worries that moisture will ruin the floor in a room that's bound to get wet, _he thought with a whimsical smile.

He dried off, then stepped out of the shower and started to dress. Until he noticed that his shirt was a bit tight. Peter frowned. _I may not be a jock, but I do get **some** excercise. After all, chasing that bus every day for half a dozen blocks to get to and from school has to count for **something. **When did I gain so much weight?_ With some difficulty, he managed to get the shirt off again. Dreading what he would see, he turned to the full length mirror that hung on the bathroom door with his eyes shut. When he opened them, Peter thought his eyes would pop out of his head.

Trying to reconcile his mind with what he saw in the mirror, he ran a hand over his chest. _Holy cow! I know those muscles weren't there yesterday!_ The hand traveled to the six pack he now had. _No way!_ Then, _No wonder the shirt was too tight! Holy cow. _He noticed another change in size, a bit further down and his face flushed. _No way!_ Peter thought again.

"Peter, are you alright in there?" came his aunt's worried voice, snapping his reeling mind out of the circles it was going in.

"Uh, yeah, Aunt May. Be right out." Peter pulled his boxers and pants on, and slung the towel over his shoulders, not wanting to risk ripping his shirt. Aunt May liked to take stuff he had outgrown to charities and shelters for the homeless, and he thought it was a good cause.

"Oh, good, I was starting to worry. I tried to tell you several times that breakfast was ready."

"Sorry. I kinda spaced out," he said as he opened the door. Aunt May smiled and nodded, already starting to walk toward the stairs so she never noticed Peter's new physique. The teen took advantage of that, practically running to his room in his haste to get a looser shirt. If he showed up at school with muscles that had appeared overnight everyone would think that he had had plastic surgery or something. Finally dressed, he ran downstairs for breakfast.

* * *

BEEEP! BEEEP! BEEEP!

The insistent, shrill cries of Harry's alarm finally woke him. He hated the thing with a passion, and the noise it made. It was a necessary evil though, since he was a heavy sleeper. Long ago had his father and all the hired help given up on trying to wake him every morning.

For several minutes Harry lay with his eyes shut, listening to the alarm. He wanted to sleep. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he imagined a badly proportioned animated Harry pulling out a giant mallet and smashing the alarm clock. Alas, it was not to be. Peter would probably get the crap beaten out of him by Flash if Harry wasn't at school. Briefly he wondered, _What's Flash got against Pete anyway?_

Admitting defeat to the alarm clock, he opened his eyes. Before he could come up with a reason to stay in bed, he bolted onto his feet. This was a morning routine for Harry. If he didn't throw himself out of bed pretty quickly he'd fall asleep. Theoretically. _Stupid alarm. _

He shook his head and ambled to his oversized walk-in closet. As usual he grabbed a pair of faded jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. Harry knew it ticked his father off to see him dressed like that. _Especially since these aren't exactly fashionable_, he mused. Frankly, Harry didn't care. He was the one who had to wear it. Why not at least be comfortable?

He dragged himself to the bathroom for a shower. As soon as he was showered and dressed, he ran downstairs to the kitchen. Normally he'd skip breakfast or just grab something quick, but lately Pete had been telling him he looked gaunt. He seemed worried about it, even asked Harry if he was becoming anorexic. Harry had barely suppressed a laugh when Peter asked him that. Truth be told, Harry had fast metabolism, and the only meal he skipped or skimped on was breakfast. Even that was only because of lack of time.

Harry shook his head. _Peter worries too much_, he thought, taking a seat at the kitchen table. His father was seated on the other side. They almost never used the dining room. It was for when they had guests, and for special occasions.

Suddenly Harry noticed his father didn't have his nose buried in the Wall Street Journal. He was about to congratulate his father and suggest they sit in the dining room for this 'special' occasion, when he noticed what his father _was_ doing. Alternating between glaring at his cereal and glaring harder at his son. Images of the previous night flooded, unbidden, into the teen's mind. Norman. Norman drunk and passed out. In his _completely trashed_ study.

Suddenly Harry lost his appetite. _Pete'll jump my case if I don't eat **something,** though,_ the thought came to Harry-- detachedly; as if he were suddenly no longer Harry Osborn, but someone else. Just watching, the way a movie, or sometimes a well-written book is watched in the mind's eye. Harry got up from the table, muttering some excuse about being late. He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and forced himself to walk, not run.

The hairs on the back of Harry's neck raised as he turned to head for the door. _Danger! Danger!_ his senses cried out at him. Then he felt a hand take hold of his wrist. Nothing unusual about that. Except that the hand had an iron grip on his wrist, and it hurt like a mother, and it would probably bruise.

A voice came, his father's voice, but so much harsher than Harry _ever_ remembered it. And he remembered it being pretty harsh at times. _Like last week, when I failed that history quiz,_ he recalled. His father had been pretty angry. "_Where_ do you think you are going?" Before Harry could reply, his father spun him so Harry had to look at him. There was a strange, _Maybe crazed?_ gleam in his father's eyes. He'd never seen that before. Norman answered his own question. "Nowhere. We're going to eat together, like a normal family. And we're going play hooky, like a normal family, and spend the_ day_ together, like a normal family."

This was really creeping Harry out. The last time he had suggested doing anything 'like a normal family,' Norman had just gone all melancholy and went to his study to get drunk. He fumbled for an excuse to get out of it. "School, Dad. I'm not doing too hot as it is. I have to go to school. I can't miss any more of it. I already missed two weeks on your trip to Spain, and four days with one of your overseas conference-things, and--"

A right hook to his jaw cut him off. _Shit. So I was right. Dad's become violent. My fears are coming true._ He stared at Norman for a moment, his hand reaching up to touch his jaw. Norman had started ranting and raving a split second after hitting Harry. The teen wasn't listening though.

He bolted to the door, tears forming in his eyes.

* * *

**Lunchtime**

Peter stared at his wrist. What was that weird, sticky white stuff that had just shot out of it? Since when did _anything_ come out of his wrist? Peter was thankful his best friend hadn't been there to see him make a freak out of himself. Harry'd had to stay behind at their last class. The teacher wanted to talk to Harry about his grades.

Peter ran out the cafeteria door, letting it close behind him. The tray was still attached to the white stuff, though, and that was still attached to his wrist. He needed to go somewhere. Needed to think. When he pulled free of the white stuff that had trapped him near the cafeteria doors, he continued walking down the hall. He headed for his locker. At least if he was going to ditch he could take what homework he _did_ get and do it later.

All hopes of an easy escape were dashed as Flash's voice shouted from a few short yards behind him, "PARKER! YOU FREAK! STOP!"

"Uh-oh," Peter muttered under his breath. He was still trying to do his locker combo to get his homework. He'd been on the receiving end of Flash's punches before. Sloppy, but man! Did they ever hurt! Whenever Harry was around he stuck up for Peter, but Harry was probably still being lectured by Mr. Dunaham. As he did every time Flash attacked him, Peter fervently wished Aunt May wasn't such a pacifist. She wouldn't let him take martial arts lessons. Fighting was one thing she was dead set against.

Then, out of the blue, everything seemed to be going in super-slow motion. His senses were all suddenly on overdrive. A fly landed on the alarm bell on the wall. A kid down the hall slipped. Up the hall, Harry emerged from the classroom Peter had left him in. A fist flew at Peter's head. He dodged it with ease. It impacted his locker door so hard it left a large dent. _Glad that wasn't my head,_ Peter mused, wondering at his new reflexes. Where had they come from?

"FLASH! KNOCK IT OFF, LEAVE PETER ALONE!" shouted Harry, about to step into the fray. A couple of Flash's cronies grabbed him and held him back. Peter glanced at him.

"It's okay Harry. I think I can take him," Peter stated calmly, surprising himself and everyone else.

Flash tilted his head, confused. "Have you gone nuts, Parker? Maybe you should get your temperature taken, seein' as I'm gonna send ya ta the nurse's office anyways."

The goon threw a few punches at Peter, but he dodged each with ease. He noted that Harry didn't struggle as hard to free himself from Flash's cronies. He'd realized that Peter could handle himself. Finally fed up, Peter threw a punch of his own, giving it his all, since he knew he was pretty weak. Harry's jaw was among the ones that needed to be picked up off the floor two seconds later. The school's toughest bully and most popular jock had just gone flying down the hall. The momentum only ended when Flash crashed, back first, into the far wall.

In the back of his mind, Peter registered Harry's exclamation of, "HOLY CRAP!" He didn't want to hear more reactions.

TBC...


	4. Secrets, Part II

This_was_ going to be all one chappie ('Secrets,' that is),but FFNwon't have it. Too long. Soit's two parts.

DISCLAIMER: That one word says enough, I think.

**Secrets, Part II**

"Holy crap," Harry repeated in a whisper. Wide brown eyes stared at the door Peter had fled through. It was unbelievable. Peter needed help getting the lid off a new _jar_ half the time. Yet less than five minutes ago he had sent the biggest, _toughest_ goon in school flying down the hall.

Logic hit Harry like a lead brick. Peter was probably upset about hitting Flash. Probably horrified at his own actions and berating himself. _But I can't leave. I'm on the verge of flunking out._ The shocked look on his best friend's face came to mind again. _Screw school. Pete's WAY more important._ With that thought in mind, he ran out of the school to track Peter.

* * *

**Somewhere downtown**

_MAN! I can't believe I hit Flash. That wasn't the right way to deal with him. What're Aunt May and Uncle Ben gonna say when they find out?_ Then Peter wondered with amusement, _What, besides 'Holy crap,' does Harry have to say about it? Probably "Go Pete! You finally stuck up for yourself!" He's always supportive._

Peter sighed. He had a headache, from sticking to the wall upside down for so long. He'd been hanging there for a good five minutes. This wierd new stick-to-the-walls power was kinda cool. To end his headache, he stopped crabwalking along the wall and sat up. His hands immediately went flat to the wall, to keep him from falling.

_Maybe I could become a superhero for the city. I could call myself 'Post-It Man.'_ Peter laughed. He suddenly leapt upward, on an instinct. And promptly gaped in wonder when it sent him up the five remaining floors to the top of the building.

If he could do _that_... surely gaps between buildings would be no problem. "WOOOOOHOOOOO!" Peter whooped as he leapt across his eighth or ninth gap. He had lost track at four. After another five or six rooftops, he stood still on one for a few minutes to catch his breath. Then he remembered why he'd run off in the first place. The white stuff that had shot out of his wrist in the cafeteria. The heightened senses and reflexes that had allowed him to beat Flash. Well, that and this sudden new strength that he had.

_Sounds kind of like those super-spiders the scientists were working on in the lab we visited for that field trip yesterday,_ Peter mused. He gasped. _I got bit by a spider there! One was missing when we left. I got sick last night. Then this morning I wake up and I have muscles. That spider that bit me must've been the missing super-spider! HOLY COW!_

After a while, Peter figured out how to control his webbing. Then he spent the rest of the day practicing web-swinging from building to building.

* * *

**The Parker house**

"I dunno, Ben. I've looked at _all_ of Peter's usual haunts, and even a bunch of places I'm not sure he'd be at, but I can't find him anywhere." Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He could only imagine that Pete must be more torn up about hitting Flash than he had even guessed. _That doesn't mean he should worry the hell out of all of us. He's in for an earful,_ Harry mentally grumbled.

"We're all worrying too much. Peter will come home, and he'll be just fine," May said for the umpteenth time as she continued pacing. Almost as if on cue, Peter burst through the door.

A grin was set on the face of the teen who'd been the topic of the other three's conversation for the past twenty minutes. "Hey everybody! What's up?"

_Well,_ thought Harry wryly,_ at least he's back. But what's he smiling about? I thought... aw, hell. Greet him first, lecture him second, and ask him later what he's grinning about._ "Peter--" Harry was interrupted by Ben's exclamation of "Glad you're back!" and May's simultaneous, teary exclamation of, "We were so worried about you!"

Harry raised his voice to be heard.

"JESUS, Pete! Where've you _been?_ Ben and I looked _everywhere_ for you and couldn't find you! You really had us freaked with your disappearing act. For sanity's sake, don't do it again!" Harry rambled. All three Parkers stared at him.

"Whoa. Did I miss something? I expected a lecture from Aunt May and Uncle Ben, but from you, Harry?" Peter's eyes danced in amusement. Harry had the grace to blush. A broad grin crossed Ben's face as his large shoulders shook with laughter. May smiled and shook her head as she went to put on a pot of tea for the fourth time that night. It was something she did to keep busy. She had done it earlier after Harry had rushed in saying that Peter had run out of school and he couldn't find him. May didn't like to worry, so she kept busy instead. "Sorry I worried you. I needed to think after I hit Flash earlier. I guess I just lost track of time."

"Well, we're just glad you're back, safe and sound. But like Osborn said, don't do it again," Ben replied. "And tomorrow, you and I need to have a talk about that fight you started." Before Peter could say he hadn't started it, Ben had disappeared into the basement that doubled as his workshop. No one but Ben was allowed down there. He was very protective of his tools. Especially the power tools.

Alone with his friend, Peter noticed the quizzical look on Harry's face. "What?"

Harry shook his head. "Where were you? We looked everywhere."

_Not on the rooftops,_ thought Peter. "Oh, all over."

"You okay, pal? You seemed pretty upset after the fight today."

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Okay. I'm gonna go home and get some rest," Harry said. "See you at school tomorrow."

"Yeah. G'night Harry."

"Good night, Peter."

* * *

_Damn but I feel guilty. I've never kept a secret from Peter before. And now I'm hiding something big. My father hit me. God. Never thought I'd be a victim of child abuse. Can't tell anyone though. Not even Peter. He'd try to get help, and that can't happen. If it did, it'd ruin my dad, which would ruin Oscorp, which would ruin the countless people who work for Oscorp. And that would ruin a lot of families. I'm selfish at times, but not that selfish._

He was driving home. He pulled his Honda into his driveway and turned off the car. _God I'm dreading this. Dreading entering my own home. Weird._

He got out and headed for the front door. The distance had never seemed so long. The front door had never looked so foreboding before, either.

His hand stopped about two inches from the doorknob. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and braced himself. He hoped he could reach the safety of his room unscathed. He flung open the door, closed it as quickly as he could without making too much noise. Then he made a mad dash for his room. But when he reached the staircase he had to go up to get there, he saw his father halfway up the stairs. Norman was coming down.

Suddenly Harry knew what it was like to be a deer caught in the headlights. His mind was screaming at him to do anything but stay still. Problem was, his limbs seemed to be out to lunch. He couldn't move. He felt the color drain from his face, and instinctively he held his breath.

Then his dad was in his face. "_Where_ have you been?" he snarled. The only thought that formed in Harry's head was an image of a box of Tic Tacs. "After all I've done for you, you ran off this morning! Can't a father spend some time with his son?" His heart was a drum, pounding in his head so that he couldn't think. "HUH? CAN'T HE?" All that went through Harry's mind was memories of other times with his father. Norman smiling. Norman laughing. Norman crying at Emily's funeral and on their anniversary, and on the anniversary of her death. There weren't any memories of him being mean and violent.

_Except this morning. What changed? What made him snap? Was it me? Was it my bad grades? Was it me not being the perfect son, and making us the perfect family?_

At least Harry was thinking somewhat coherently again. His thoughts were cut off, though, by the fist that went flying into his stomach. He doubled over in pain. The breath he'd been holding earlier was knocked out of him when Norman hit him, and Harry desperately gulped down air. His lungs didn't seem to work though. He couldn't seem to get any air. Tears burnedin his eyes. For lack of air. For the pain in his stomach. For his father changing so much so rapidly. In two days he's gone from kind but strict, to cruel and spiteful.

_Why? Why has he changed like this? Why does he hit me? Why do I deserve this? _Do_ I deserve this?_ Harry's mind rambled.

"Weak, Osborn, you're weak! Get up. Get up! Fight!" Norman growled at him. Harry stayed down, and Norman waited amoment. That moment felt like a lifetime. Finally, he growled, "You're not worth my time. You'll never get anywhere in life if you aren't willing to fight for yourself."

He dealt a harsh kick to Harry's ribs before walking away.

_I'm going to feel that tomorrow. Not that I don't now, _Harry groaned inwardly, feeling dazed. He got up and walked to his room, holding his aching ribs and stomach.

**

* * *

**

**Norman's study**

"How could you treat my _son_ like that?" Norman wailed to his counterpart, who was reflected in the mirror.

Said reflection walked toward him, tilting his head at an angle like a child observing his butterfly collection. "You mean, how could _you_ treat _our_ son like that," it corrected him.

Norman was mortified. "No! I'd _never_ treat my son that way!"

His counterpart gave him a sick, twisted little smile that seemed to speak on its own. A smile that spoke of torture, pain, death, and a thousand other sadistic things. "Ah, but you and I are the same person. I am you, and you are me. Besides, I only exist to give _you_ what _you_ want. You simply wanted the little brat to pay for making you look bad, for not keeping with the public persona you wanted him to have. I gave _you_ what _you_ wanted."

"No! No! I never wanted to hit my son! Never! I would never hit Harry!" Norman choked back tears, gripping his armchair to keep from falling down where he stood.

"But you wanted him to pay! And the little brat is _going_ to pay. In spades!" The reflection cackled. Then, to convince Norman, "Remember how he always dresses, like a ruffian? How he always gets bad grades, never makes a lick of effort? How he's always _so_ disrespectful?" The crowning question, "How he told you not so long ago that he hates you?"

"Yes. Yes, yes. Harry's been anything but the perfect son. But should he really be punished this way? Isn't there a way to correct him without hurting him?" Norman replied.

"No. Those ways never work on people like him. Like the people at Quest. All they understand is who hits hardest," his counterpart replied scornfully.

"O-Okay. Whatever's necessary, then." Norman's lips moved afterward in a soundless apology that Harry would never hear.

TBC... 


	5. Painful Resolutions

DISCLAIMER: If you still think I'm claiming ownership of Spider-Man, please reread the first word of this chapter until you see the proverbial light.

**Chapter Three: Painful Resolutions**

Peter lay awake long after he'd gone to his room. His mind wouldn't shut up and let him sleep. There was the thing about Flash. Peter's new powers. Then, what worried him most. He'd heard his aunt and uncle discussing money problems. Despite not meaning to, he _had_ eavesdropped on them. Uncle Ben had apparently lost his job. That did not help the load of overdue bills.

_I've gotta find a way to make some money. Fast,_ Peter thought. Giving up on sleep, he got up. There was a copy of the classified ads on his desk. He switched on his desk lamp before turning to the ads. Half an hour later he saw it. An ad for people to fight. Three minutes for three thousand dollars. It also asked that the competitors wear colorful costumes. Peter got out his sketchbook and started working on costume ideas.

Sometime around two or three in the morning, his head hit the desk. Sleep had claimed him.

**

* * *

**

**Next Morning**

Peter bounded cheerfully down the stairs. Uncle Ben looked up from his newspaper. He grinned at the sight of his nephew literally bouncing off the wall at the end of the staircase. Ben chuckled to May, "Well, he's definitely all better."

"Oh yeah! Hey, I've got a project I need to go to the library and get some books for. I'll be gone most of the day. 'Kay?" Peter spoke up.

"Certainly, but you should eat breakfast before you go," Aunt May replied. She gestured to the pan of scrambled eggs on the stove. Peter, however, was already at the door.

"I'll eat something while I'm out, Aunt May, I promise," he called over his shoulder.

"Hey, Michelangelo! Don't forget, you have to help me paint the kitchen tonight! 'Penance' for starting a fight, remember?" Uncle Ben reminded him.

"I _didn't_ start that fight!"

"You certainly _finished_ it. You have to learn, Peter. With great power comes great responsibility. Even if Flash deserved it-- and he probably did-- you shouldn't have beat him up like that," Ben said. "I know you're going through a lot of changes right now. I went through exactly the same thing at your age--" Peter cut him off.

"No. Not exactly the same thing." The teen was so bold as to sound condescending.

"Peter," Aunt May warned.

"Just try not to get into any more fights, and I'll pick you up at seven at the library then." Uncle Ben sighed.

"Okay, Uncle Ben, I will!" Slam! went the front door, signaling that Peter was gone.

**

* * *

**

**That Evening**

_There's something I'm supposed to do tonight, but I can't remember what. What is it? Ugh. If I don't remember, then it must not be that important,_ Peter reasoned as he stood behind a curtain. He was in a stadium of sorts, in one of the worse parts of town. The air was smoky, musty, and generally foul. The noise pollution defied the limits for a space this size, making the walls rattle. Peter half-heartedly wondered if the walls would give out. _My ears sure might! Man! And I thought the halls at school were noisy at the end of the day! No comparison!_ Hearing and smell weren't the only senses assaulted by this place. Sight was too. The smoke was thick in the air, burning at Peter's eyes so he was forced to squint. If that wasn't enough, it seemed that everyone was wearing the cheesiest costume possible. Black leather, or faux leather. Some of the girls wore plastic gold-colored tube-tops. Their hair was greasy and tangled. They had too much make-up on.

"The Human Spider? That the best you got, kid?" the announcer suddenly hissed. The guy was right in front of Peter. _My turn to fight that guy in the leotard, I guess,_ he thought.

"Yeah," replied Peter. The announcer made a sound of disgust.

"I'll work with it. Ugh. I've gotta find a better job," the man muttered. He brought the microphone close to his mouth again, and spoke in a deeper tone again, "The amazing, the terrifying, the lethal SPIDER-MAN!"

"No!" Peter hissed. "No! I'm--" he was shoved from behind, "ugh! My name is 'The Human Spider!' 'The Human Spider!'"

"Just get up there, kid!" a voice snapped from behind him. He was shoved forward again. This time he stumbled out in front of the curtain. Immediately, one of his opponent's 'cheerleaders' was in his face, insulting him.

"Why don'tcha go run home ta ya _mommy,_ little _boy!"_ Peter continued toward the arena, despite all the booing from the crowd.

Once he was in the arena, the announcer asked some people to lower the cage that covered the ring. Peter freaked. "Wait! Wait! Nobody said _anything_ about a _cage_ match!" Too late. The cage was down, and it was being locked in place. Peter turned to the guy who was locking his corner of the cage. "Wait! Unlock this! Please!" He grabbed the bars and rattled them to no avail. _Great. I'm stuck in a cage for three minutes with Xenon, the warrior transvestite._ Resigned to a gory fate, the teen turned to face his opponent.

"BONESAW! BONESAW! BONESAW!" the crowd cheered.

"I'm gonna make lunchmeat outta you, little man!" Bonesaw threatened in a gravelly voice. He charged toward Peter. The teen leapt up. The sticky-pads on his fingers gripped the bars. "Come down from there!"

"UH-UH!" Peter replied, shaking his head. His already wide eyes went wider as Bonesaw took a chair from one of his cheerleaders. The guy was _really_ intent on bringing him down. Bonesaw swung the chair at him. Peter sprang off the side of the cage, somersaulting in the air. He went right over Bonesaw's head and landed behind him. The idiot looked around with a puzzled expression.

"Hey, stupid." Peter drew the guy's attention. Bonesaw turned. "Didja miss me?" That pun set his opponent off, and the teen had to dodge the chair again a few more times. He was hit enough times that he'd have a few big nasty bruises later though. Peter had squeezed a few good hits of his own too. Apparently Bonesaw was tired of using the chair. He passed it off through the bars. By the time he turned back around, Peter's fist was halfway to Bonesaw's face.

"You're gonna pay for that!" Bonesaw ran at him. The guy was red-faced with anger. Veins bulged on the idiot's forehead and neck. This guy, Peter decided, was funny when he was angry. So the teen taunted him.

"Hey, ugly! That's a cute outfit. Did your _husband_ buy it for you?"

"Why you little--" Bonesaw didn't bother to finish the insult. Just charged at Peter. He flipped over Bonesaw's head again. When he landed he immediately kicked Bonesaw's feet out from under him. He let his burly opponent get back up. Then punched him one more time. Hard. A thud would have been heard if there was a little less noise. Bonesaw was knocked out.

"OUR NEW CHAMPION! SPIDER-MAN!" the announcer shouted, grabbing one of Peter's hands and raising it high in the air. Behind his mask, the teen grinned. _Now we can pay some of those overdue bills,_ he thought.

**

* * *

**

**Later**

_Not his problem? That's a gyp! False advertising! It isn't fair! If I had been an adult he wouldn't have done that!_ Peter thought as he stormed away from the office. The man inside it was _supposed_ to give him three grand. Instead he'd slapped a single Benjamin in the teen's palm and told him to be on his merry way. When Peter had said he needed that money, the man had said, "That ain't _my_ problem. I need this money too, and you ain't gettin' it! So scram!"

A guy suddenly pushed past Peter, nearly knocking him down. Thanks to his reflexes though, he didn't fall. The man was carrying the paper bag that guy had put the money in. The money that was rightfully Peter's. The thief tripped, so Peter got to the elevator first. He hit the down arrow on the keypad. "Hey! Couldja move?" the thief asked.

The rude man who had refused to pay Peter was at the end of the hallway. "Stop him! Stop the thief!" the man shouted. Peter knew what the right thing to do was. Stop the guy. But that other guy was a thief too. That bitter thought caused the teen's eyes to take on a hard look. He stepped out of the thief's way, allowing him into the elevator.

"Hey, thanks," the thief said. The elevator closed. Just then the other man reached Peter.

"What'd ya do that for? Ya could'a stopped him easy! Now he's gettin' away with _my_ money."

Peter glared at him. "That ain't _my_ problem."

**

* * *

**

**Later**

Peter strode toward the library. His anger had cooled only a little. Enough to hide it from Uncle Ben, though, Peter figured. He turned the corner, expecting Ben's car to come into view. Instead he saw three police cars and a large crowd. Several more cop cars were speeding off after another car. Which looked just like Uncle Ben's car. _Oh God, don't let it be Uncle Ben. Oh God, please._ The teen ran to the crowd, pushed his way through it. At last he knew what everyone was staring at. Police were trying to get breathing room in the center of the crowd. There, on the ground, bleeding, lay Uncle Ben. Four bullet holes in his torso bled like crazy.

"Move, let me through, that's my uncle!" Peter heard himself shout. Tears pooled in his blue eyes. He finally got to his uncle's side. He knelt there and picked up his uncle's hand. "Uncle Ben, wake up. Please." Ben opened his eyes. They were tear-filled from pain. The older man tried a few times before he succeeded in speaking. Even then, all he managed to say was his nephew's name. More tears welled in both men's eyes. Then Ben gasped, and his hand went limp in Peter's. It fell to the pavement.

Tears rolled down Peter's face. _Anger. Pain. Grief,_ each beat of his heart whispered. Whoever had done this was going to pay. Peter turned to the cop nearest him. "How did this happen?" His voice sounded hoarse.

"Some thief was tryin'a get away, an' your uncle wouldn' give 'im his car so the guy shot your uncle. Then he threw 'im outta the car and we set off chasin' 'im a minute ago," the cop replied in a heavy Brooklyn accent.

Peter glared in the direction the cop cars had chased Uncle Ben's car. _With great power comes great responsibility,_ his uncle's words floated back to him. _Yeah,_ he thought, _great responsibility to avenge your death. That thief is DEAD!_

TBC...


	6. Something's Wrong with this Picture

Sorry I've taken longer than normal to add another chapter. This chapter is dedicated to my 'Purple Grandma.' I love you, and although I know you're happy now, in heaven getting the grand tour from Jesus, I miss you.

Thank you to my wonderful beta, Brook, without whom this would be a much worse fic. And I promise your critiquing (hey Brook, did I spell that right?) didn't leave me sobbing or in the fetal position. Colds are another story, just ask my crazy cousins.

Thank you also to those who have reviewed. Especially The-Dark's-Familiar and Angelo. I couldn't get through this without you.

DISCLAIMER: You're not the brightest crayon in the box if you think I own Spidey.

**Something's Wrong with this Picture**

_People say revenge is sweet, but I know better now. Last night I killed the man who murdered my uncle, the only father figure I remember. I miss my uncle like crazy. Last night I fled after I killed my uncle's murderer and spent the rest of the night crying. I know it's all out of self-pity. Self-pity over my guilt for killing that man, murderer or not. And I felt sorry for myself because, well, how'll I get along now without my uncle's guidance? Sure my aunt is still alive, but she's not the same now. It's like someone left only glistening fragments in place of the glass ornament of her soul. Everyone's soul is fragile, hanging, depending on someone, or something. Mine is cracked and chipped, but my aunt-- I don't know. Her soul seems shattered. Utterly incomplete. I'm afraid to leave her alone. I didn't let her cook breakfast this morning because the last thing I need is more blood on my hands. AGH! There I go thinking about me first again. I honestly couldn't leave her alone in a room full of sharp objects though. I may be self-centered, but I_

"PETER PARKER!"

Peter's head snapped up. He had been writing in a small notebook. Though Aunt May had called and explained that Peter needed time to grieve for his uncle, he couldn't afford to take it. He'd had pneumonia twice at the beginning of the year.

Now the school day was nearly over and he had spent most of it either spacing out or writing in his new journal. He didn't remember a single lesson for that day. Good thing he had jotted down all the homework that had been assigned.

"Huh?" Peter responded spacily, looking through, rather than at his teacher. His mind was once again starting to wander to the swirling chaos his life had, as some cosmic joke, been thrown into.

"Look, Parker, I know you have some personal issues to deal with right now, but DON'T drag them into my class," the teacher punctuated his order with a glare that would have melted the polar ice caps.

"Uh huh," Peter replied, unable to focus on what the teacher was saying.

"See me after class," the teacher said in a clipped manner.

"Uh huh," came the disturbed teen's automatic response.

**

* * *

**

**After School**

Peter caught up with Harry.

"Hey, Har!" His friend turned to him and smiled at him. The smile didn't quite reach the other teen's soft brown eyes. In fact, Peter thought Harry looked kind of run down. Like he'd wrestled the entire football team and then stayed up all night for kicks.

"Hey pal!"

Suddenly Peter felt uncomfortable because of what he was about to ask. He averted his eyes to the tarmac under his feet. He and Harry were still in the school parking lot. "Umm, Har, could I, like, come over to your place for a little while? I don't wanna go home 'til I absolutely have to. Too many reminders of, you know," Peter's voice became strained.

Harry cut him off so the other teen wouldn't start crying. It hurt him to see Peter cry. "Uh, yeah, sure." The moment the words were spoken he wanted to smack himself over the head. _Do I just not have a brain or something? JEEZ!_ _Dad's going to be working in his office all day, and he's so touchy lately. More so when he's working. Not that he hasn't always been adamant about silence when he's working. He even bought me that TV with a headphone jack for my birthday one year. Dad'll be so pissed if we make any noise. God I'm dumb! __Nothing but air beneath the hair!_ Harry thought, shaking his head at the mental image of an empty space under his curly locks. "We'll have to be quiet though. Dad'll be in his office and he's kinda touchy when he's working."

**

* * *

**

**The Osborn Mansion**

Peter frowned as Harry cringed when the little black Honda they were in pulled into the driveway. "You okay?"

"Yeah, why?" Harry asked.

Shrugging it off, the other teen muttered, "Nothing, I guess."

They quietly slipped in through the front door. Harry gently set his backpack on the floor under the coat rack. Peter's joined it with an inconspicuous thump. "You want a snack?" Harry asked quietly as he turned toward the kitchen.

"Sure." He followed his friend into the kitchen. Harry made a tuna and apple sandwich for Peter, which he knew was the teen's fave. For himself he made a peanut butter and banana sandwich. Meanwhile Peter made their mutual favorite drink. He mixed chocolate syrup and club soda and added a little banana slice at the top of each glass. It was something they had started when they were little and had seen Norman drinking something alcoholic with a slice of fruit on the glass.

When they exited the kitchen, and were about to go upstairs, Peter felt that same tingling sensation he'd had whenever anyone had thrown a punch or shot at him recently. _Then that means there's some kind of danger nearby, but... that's impossible. This is the Osborn Mansion, the safest place this side of the George Washingon Bridge. Right?_ Peter frowned as these thoughts led down a trail to God-knows-where. Harry started to say something, effectively snapping Peter back to reality but another voice from the top of the staircase interrupted.

"Oh, Harry, you're back. And you've brought Parker. It's nice to see you again, kid." The voice sounded like Norman's, and yet... not. _Actually it kinda sounds like he's high on helium,_ Peter thought with some amusement. Norman descended the staircase to where the two boys stood. The nearer the man came, the worse the tingling at the back of Peter's neck became. By the time Norman came to a halt, a mere three feet from them, the sense of danger was so bad that the teen just wanted to deck him. If the man took one more step, Peter knew he would lose it and hit him. The boy snuck a glance at his friend, looking for clues to what could make his 'danger alert thingy' go off like this around Norman.

And Peter got his clue.

_Harry is stiff as a board, paler than moonlight, and his eyes are as wide as silver dollars. AAAGGH!_ _This isn't the time for metaphors! This isn't a poetry lesson in English Lit. class!_ Peter chided himself. Turning hard blue eyes on the older Osborn, he forced himself to act civil. "Hi Mr. Osborn. Harry and I were just going up to his room to hang out a while and get some homework done, so if you don't mind..."

"Of course not. I'm glad this slacker is finally getting some work done," Norman replied with an overly sweet smile that was obviously only there for Peter's benefit. The older man stepped aside to let the two teens pass, and Peter gently nudged Harry to get the boy moving. Harry snapped back to reality and followed Peter up the steps as quickly as he could without raising his friend's suspicions.

Once they had reached the apparent safety of Harry's room, they set their plates and glasses down and Peter asked, "What was _that?_"

Harry sighed. "I dunno. Dad's been a little high-strung lately. Guess they're having trouble with the research project they're working on. Dad doesn't say much about it, but he's always more tense when he's been working on it."

"Oh." Peter dropped the subject, turning to his sandwich and drink. Inwardly, however, he was turning it over, wondering what was really going on. That sense-- hadn't the tour guide at the lab called it a 'spider sense?'-- wouldn't just go off if someone was a little tense, would it? He thought hard, trying to remember every time it had gone off. None of those times had been devoid of danger. Something more was going on than Harry was telling him, Peter was sure of it. Besides, there were other clues. Like the way Harry had seemed to dread coming into the mansion, and how he had gone all tense when Norman showed up. _Yeah, something's up alright. I just have to find out what it is,_ Peter concluded. The other boy interrupted his thoughts when he joked.

"Hey, that's for eating, not just a decoration, Pete," Harry laughed, drawing his attention back to his snack.

Peter laughed, letting his previous thoughts slip to the back of his mind. He'd figure this out later, just like his new web slinging, spider-sense, and wall crawling abilities. Right now though, he was hungry.

TBC...

* * *

Hey, press the little purple button at the bottom of the screen where it says review. Reviews are better than salsa! Well, maybe that's going overboard. ALMOST as good. :) 


	7. Suspicions

Rewritten with help from (read as rewritten _by_) my wonderful beta, Brook. :forced smile: This must be how writers feel about their editors. :chanting: It improves my writing, it improves my writing, it improves.... Lol!

DISCLAIMER: If I owned it, my wallet would not be anorexic.

**Suspicions**

This morning, Harry's alarm sounded like a death march. Dum dum dum, go to the executioner and get your head chopped off. _Ugh. It's too early for this,_ Harry mentally sighed. Nonetheless, he threw his legs over the edge of the bed and prepared for another school day. Going to school sounded... appealing. That was a first.

His dad would probably try to hit him again. Despite their differences, Harry loved his father. He would prefer to find a way around fighting. But there wasn't a way. So, a resolution formed, planting itself firmly in Harry's mind. He would fight back. Hitting Harry would come with a price from now on. He thought he could hold his own pretty well.

Trepidation crept into his heart though, as he made his way downstairs. Then a voice stopped him in his tracks. Harry was almost to the front door. "Harry!"

He slowly turned to face the voice's owner. "Yeah, Dad?" Every sense was focused now. Harry heard the slow tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the hall; smelled the bacon and eggs Norman had deserted a minute or two ago; he saw a small moth that had somehow slipped in and was currently batting against the chandelier.

Fight or flight reaction, that's why I'm so alert now, thought Harry. _I'm going to fight._

His dad held out the morning edition of the Daily Bugle. Harry's eyebrows went up from not one, but two surprises. First, his dad hadn't hit him. Second, they never read the Bugle. It was an unspoken rule. After all, that paper had a tendency to print lies, like the rag magazines at the checkout counters in grocery stores. 'Just print something stupid, people will read and believe it,' that seemed to be the Bugle's motto. Nonetheless, Harry took the paper from his father. As he did, Norman said smugly, "Those fools at Quest Aerospace came to their rewards."

Harry read the sensational headline: "Quest Labs Bombed!" His mind wandered. _Did Dad do this? He _has_ been violent lately... and-- No! I can't think like that! Dad might hit me, but he would never kill anyone. Would he?_ Harry focused again on the front page article of the newspaper he held. Reading a few more lines revealed the killer, to some degree. According to the paper there were no survivors. One security camera on the grounds, some distance from the building, had captured a few seconds of film on the killer though. The maniac was on a thin platform that hovered in the air, and he was dressed in some type of green armor. _Kryptonite?_ Harry wondered jokingly, a slight smile coming to his lips at the thought of the criminal wearing a suit made of Superman's one weakness.

His smile faded. _Whoever blew that place up was sick. How could anyone want to do something like that, much less go through with it?_ Disgusted, Harry tossed the paper on a sofa to his right. It slipped off the leather material, landing on the hardwood floor with a light thud. He walked toward the kitchen, leaving his father behind him. Not looking back, he said, "What that psycho did was gross."

A fist connected with Harry's back and he realized his mistake in turning his back on his father. The blow knocked him to the floor, and he landed on his face with a wet crack. Scrambling to his feet, Harry saw blood dripping from his nose. Instinctively, he spun around and punched his father in the jaw, as hard as he could. He hadn't wanted to hurt Norman, only to make him stop. But to his surprise, his father was completely unhurt. The only evidence of the punch was a stunned look on the elder Osborn's face. Taking advantage of his father's shock, Harry turned and ran from the house, grabbing his backpack at the door.

Not until he had started the car and driven halfway to the school did the weight of what he had done hit Harry. His stomach turned, threatening to spill contents it did not have. _Oh my God. My father. I hit my father._ Harry pulled over and stopped the car. He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. _Does that make me as bad as him?_

* * *

**At the school**

Peter glared at the clock on the wall as the bell announced the end of third period. He hadn't seen Harry all day. Pete had asked around a little too, worrying about his friend. No one else had seen him either. He just hadn't been at school.

Peter had worked hard the first three years of high school, so he only had three periods instead of the usual six. Two of those were just electives he had wanted to take. Now he was grateful he'd worked so hard. Those three periods he didn't have would be all the more chance to look for Harry.

* * *

**Half an hour later**

Peter was surprised he had found Harry so quickly. The little black Honda his friend was so fond of was parked on the side of the road, halfway between the high school and the Osborn mansion. Inside, Harry was asleep at the driver's seat, using the steering wheel as a pillow. Peter didn't notice the small smile of relief that snuck onto his face. _Looks like Harry's okay,_ he thought. _Now I just have to wake him up. _He rapped lightly on the window. No response. So he banged on the top of the car, and Harry awoke. The curly-haired teen jumped so high his head almost hit the roof of the little car.

Blue eyes noticed the bruise and broken nose Harry had, and watched him breathe a sigh of relief when he realized where he was and who had wakened him. Harry unlocked the front passenger door to let the other teen in.

Once Peter was in the car, he unleashed a battery of questions on his friend.

"Whoa, slow down Pete..." Harry sighed. "... because I didn't feel well. I pulled over, and just kinda fell asleep. I have a broken nose because I was trying to get a box from behind my stuff on the top shelf in my room and the stuff fell down and hit me. And as for whether I'm okay, I'm feeling better now. Alright, Mother Hen?" he teased.

Inwardly, Peter wanted to sigh in relief. _Harry' s okay. Nothing catastrophic happened. Har can take care of himself. __Why was I worried in the first place?_ He answered his own question, and felt his relief slip away. _I was worried because of the way Mr. Osborn acted the other day, and the way Harry acted around him. Of course the black eye didn't exactly squash my suspicions either. I wonder if Harry was lying __ab__out how he got those injuries__. It wouldn't be the first time a victim of abuse lied about something like that. But how can I find out the truth? Hmm... I guess I'll have to let it go for now and just keep my eyes open and my spider-sense alert._

* * *

Love? Hate? Lemme know. Click the little purple button next to the box that says 'Submit Review.'

Wow, I just realized my habit of writing shorter chapters for my Smallville fic, 'Numb,' is rubbing off on 'Tangled.' Uh-oh. Don't throw rotting fruit and veggies! Plz!


	8. Growing Pains

Forgive me if I'm wrong on parts of the funeral procedures. I don't know how white people do funerals. As my bio says, I'm Alaska Native (I don't care for the term Indian; we aren't from India) and so the only funeral I've ever attended was for my Alaskan Native grandmother. If I'm wrong aboout something, let me know and I'll try to correct it.

If anyone thinks of a better title for this chapter... one that's not as lame... let me know, cuz I'm dyin' out here!

DISCLAIMER: Apples are red, yes it is true, your nose will be too, if you should happen to sue. :)

**Growing Pains**

Harry watched Peter, rather than the casket, as it was lowered into the hole in the ground. The boys, May Parker, Mary Jane, and a small number of other people were present for Ben's funeral. From the look in Peter's eyes, he was tuning out the priest who was saying... something. Harry suppressed a sigh as he realized he hadn't been paying attention to the priest's words either. Instead, he had been focused on his best friend, whose eyes once again gave way to tears as the first handful of dirt was tossed on top of the casket. The floodgates really opened when the priest asked Peter to add his handful of dirt to theslowly growing pile.

Harry shuffled closer to his friend, andrubbed his backto comfort him. He was startled when Peter abruptly turned, then buried his face in Harry's shoulder. Whenthe shock wore off enough for his limbs to obey him again, he wrapped his arms around the grieving teen. The noise of shovels scraping against rocks inside the pile of dirt next to the hole drew Peter's attention. But the instant the first shovelful of dirt hit the casket, the boy hid his face again. Every now and then, he looked back at the hole, as if still trying to convince himself this was really happening. When the last patch of the dark,polished woodof Ben's casket was covered in dirt, Peter's knees buckled. Harry eased his friend onto the grass and sat down with him.

Harry's mind wandered once more. _Too bad somebody already killed Ben's murderer. I really would have torn that guy apart for hurting Pete like this. It's not fair. Pete shouldn't have to suffer through this, and Ben had a lotta years left in him, if that bastard hadn'tshot him. Damn that stupid carjacker._

After what seemed an eternity, the funeral ended. As Harry helped Peter up, May approached them. In a strained, wavering voice that was barely recognizable as hers, she said, "Well, I suppose we'll go home now, Peter. Harry, would you like to come with us? I'm sure Peter could use the company." The curly-haired teen nodded, and the three headed for the Parkers' station wagon.

**

* * *

**

**At the Parker House**

Peter took off the suit jacket, and tossed it in thebio-hazard that washis closet. Harry took his off too, but put it on the back of the chair in front of Peter's desk. Peter flopped belly-first onto his bed, whileHarry slouched in the chair. Though Peter was the only one whose strain had been made public,both were exhausted.

Harry'd had yet another blowout with his father, resulting in what he swore had to be a couple of bruised ribs. _Or maybe one of them even cracked,_ he thought darkly. _Whatever it is, I hope I never go through it again. Hurts like hell. But why am I worrying about myself? I'd better see what I can do to comfort Pete._

The boy in question was still lying on his stomach, facing away from Harry. "Hey, Pete, I'm here for ya buddy."

Peter sat up and turned to face Harry. "You always have been," Peter said with a small smile.

"Yeah. Remember when we were little kids, the first time Flash tried to beat you up?" Harry asked. Both laughed softly as they relived the memory.

"We were in kindergarten, and it was our first day," Peter recalled."While we were outside in the sandbox, I wasplaying with a toy truck. Flash came up and tried to take it from me. He was about ready to beat me up over it. Then you stepped in and hit him. He was wearing a pretty good shiner the next day."

"That's the day you and I became friends," Harry said, smiling broadly. Peter nodded, smiling.

The two boys spent the remainder of the day talking.

Night fell, and neither of the teens were ready to say goodbye. May didn't have the heart to make Harry leave, having noticed how much he had raised Peter's spirits. So Harry wound up staying the night. After much coaxing and cajoling, Peter finally convinced Harry to sleep on the bed with him instead of the floor.

**

* * *

**

**Next Morning**

The soreness inHarry's ribs made him glad he _had_ slept on the bed. Wincing, he sat up slowly and pulled himself back against the headboard. The sunlight shone through his closed eyelids, making him see pinkish-red. He surrendered to the inevitable, opening his eyes. The light was too harsh after the darkness of sleep, so he squinted. The warmth at his right drew his attention.

Peter was still sound asleep, his back against Harry's leg. It had been against Harry's chest, until he sat up. _If Pete didn't wake me up, and his alarm clock isn't going off so it isn't that, then what--_? his nose, which was already awake,informed him that French toast and eggs were waiting downstairs. He grinned. _Pete hates when he misses breakfast. Guess I'll just have to wake him up._

Harry reached down and tickled Peter. First Peter shifted a little. Then he squirmed. A squeak escaped the boy as he tried to hold back his laughter. Finally he let go of sleep and burst out laughing. Harry stopped tickling him and Peter sat up and opened his eyes.

"What was that for?" Peter demanded groggily, trying to sound irritated.

Harry grinned. "I have two words for ya, Pete: French. Toast."

Peter grinned. "Race ya downstairs!"

The two boys zipped through the hall, down the stairs, and into the kitchen, pushing each other and laughing. May smiled at them. "It's about time you two woke up. It's nearly noon."

Both boys glanced at the clock on the wall opposite to verify the time. The clock read 11:50. "What is it you're always telling me about getting up earlier, Pete?" Harry teased.

Peter elbowed Harry in the ribs, causing his friend to wince. "Are you alright, Harry?" May asked, brow furrowed in sudden worry.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Bull," Peter whispered as May went back to dishing up the food.

"Peter, I'm _fine._ Really." Then he smirked, "Maybe you just don't know your own strength."

_Harry's lying. I intentionally kept that to nothing more than a light tap. Then again, I hit Flash and he went flying a pretty good distance,_ Peter thought. Still, he retained the horrible suspicion that more was going on between the Osborns than Harry was admitting. For the moment, Peter thought it best to just let it go.


	9. Of Graduations and Invitations

Sorry I haven't updated in a while. Writer's block, visiting relatives two states away for Christmas. Yeah. Anyway, here 'tis. 

DISCLAIMER: Harry is mine. Stan Lee, Marvel, and everybody can have the rest. 

**Of Graduations and Invitations**

"I can't believe we've finally graduated!" Mary Jane was shrieking to her friends as Harry and Peter passed them on the way to find May Parker. Norman Osborn, surprisingly had been amongst the proud parents and relatives watching the graduation ceremony. 

Norman had gone unnoticed fairly close to MJ's group and the teenage boys were still close enough to hear him when he said haughtily, "_I_ can't believe _Harry's_ actually managed to graduate." Peter's spider-sense flickered lightly as a hand clapped down on his shoulder. "I know he couldn't have done it without you, Parker. Thank you." 

Peter grabbed the hand, pointedly removing it and replied, "Harry could have done it on his own. I was just there for moral support." 

Norman's nod was contradicted by a dubious look he made no effort to hide. "In any case, never lose your love of knowledge and science," the older Osborn said, referring to the science award Peter had gotten. Without giving the boy time to respond, he turned to Harry and said, "You could learn some things from your friend here." 

And with that, Norman was walking away. Apparently Harry wasn't riding home with his father. 

The boys found May, and she hugged and congratulated them both. "Ben would be so proud of the two of you, " she said tearfully. Quickly regaining her composure, she drew herself up to her full height and asked, "So, who wants to go celebrate with pizza and ice cream?" 

**At the Parker house**

It was a little past eleven pm, and May had gone to bed around 8:30 or nine. The teens had been snacking on whatthey had raided from the fridgewhile having a movie marathon. 

"Mmm, hey Pete," Harry said as he wiped a little pizza sauce off his chin with the back of his hand. 

"Hm?" Peter asked, tearing his attention away from The Lost Boys. 

"I'm moving out, into my own apartment in a week or so. It's a little big for one person though." 

Peter grinned, catching on instantly. "Cool. I'll start packing." 

Harry grinned back and asked, "You think we'll drive each other nuts after a while?" 

"No way. What could be bettter than living with your best friend?" 

Around three in the morning the boys drifted off, the TV still blaring Star Wars II: Attack of the Clones. 

**Next Morning**

Peter woke to the feeling of something wet around his mouth. He opened his eyes to find he'd been using Harry's shoulder as a pillow, and had drooled all over Har's long-sleeved tee. Peter sat up, wiped the drool off his mouth, and stretched. 

_Aunt May must've checked on us some time this morning,_ Peter mused as he noticed the fleece blanket that covered both him and Harry. _Speaking of morning, the time is..._ he glanced at his watch, _one in the afternoon. Well, not much of a surprise, considering how late we were up last night._

Harry stirred at the loss of warmth on his shoulder. Motion at his side convinced him to wake up. He pried his eyes open, and a sleepy smile stole across his lips. "Mornin', Pete." 

Mirroring the other boy's sleepy smile, he replied, "Not anymore. See?" He showed the curly-haired teen his watch. Harry's eyebrows went up lazily. Peter stood up and offered Harry a hand up. He let Peter help him up. 

"So, you two night owls are finally awake," May said from behind them, amusement coloring her tone. "I'll put lunch on for you." 

The teens chatted until lunch was ready and then Peter decided it was time to break it to May. 

"Aunt May," he called her attention to him. "I need to talk to you. I know how hard it's been to pay the bills since... well, lately, and I know I'm not helping with the financial burden. Maybe I should move into the city and get a job, so I can help out more. Harry's moving. I-I could stay with him. If you're okay with that." 

May's smile faltered for a second before she got her expression back under control. "That's wonderful, Peter. I'll help you pack." She chuckled. "You'd probably forget to pack your socks, or some such thing." 

**May's POV**

At first, when Peter told me he was moving out, I realized that I'd be all alone. Ben was dead, and nowPeter would be gone. Then it hit me. 

Ben and I had realized long ago that Harry had deeper feelings for Peter than those that came with friendship. He's never tried to make a move on Peter though, and Ican imaginehow hard it must be for him. Now I realize my nephew is beginning to feel the same way about Harry, though neither of them know it. 

I've never been a narrow-minded person, so this revelation didn't _bother_ me in the slightest. I've actually been trying to think of a way to get them together for quite some time. 

So, with this revelation and Peter's grief for my husband in my mind, I think living with Harry will do Peter some good. Misery loves company, and Peter always seems more carefree around Harry. I will miss my nephew though. 

TBC......... 


	10. So Happy Together

Lol, I just couldn't resist making that the title!

With all my lovely reviews for _Tangled, Numb,_ and _Promise Me...._ I'm on a Writer's High. I'm ecstatic that so many people liked _Promise Me_. So if anyone who's read that is reading this, let me know: Should thatremain a one-shot or should it be more?

**Disclaimer:** As much as I would love to claim ownership, Spider-Man and company still belong to Stan Lee and the crew, so I have to be content with borrowing them. _Walks off stage calmly, disappears behind curtain. Weeping and gnashing of teeth is heard_ ;)

**Chapter Nine: So Happy Together**

"Aaaahh. Muuuch better," Harry sighed as he stood up straight after putting down another heavy box. "I was starting to feel like I'd be permanently hunched over."

Peter laughed. "Back troubles, old man?"

Harry punched his friend's shoulder lightly. "No, but it's almost your bedtime, fogie."

"If I'm a fogie, what does that make you? You _are_ older than me after all, Har."

"Yep, and wiser too."

"Yeah right. You would never have gotten through high school without me!"

"That's 'cause I know how to have fun, Pete," Harry teased.

Peter pouted like a little kid who'd been insulted. "I know how to have fun. I'm just not a mush-head like you."

"Oh, you're gonna pay for that!" Peter dropped the fake pout, grinning broadly as he ran through the obstacle course of stacked cardboard boxes. Harry chased him, eventually catching Pete and tickling the otherman breathless. "Say uncle! Say it!"

"Never!" Peter cried valiantly. Until the hands tickling his ribs moved to his more sensitive stomach. "Aaaaggh! Okay, I give, I give! Uncle!" Harry stopped his assault, only to be on the receiving end of the tickling a second later.

"Ack! Pete! Noooo! Ha ha! Stop that!" Harry had a tendency to kick and flail his arms when he was being tickled, so Peter had to beware of flying limbs. "Aaagh! Uncle! Uncle!"

Pete stopped, and both men fell on the floor, still laughing. Even after their laughter died, they lay side by side on the floor in a comfortable silence for a while. Then Harry turned to face Peter, propping his head up on his hand.

"This is gonna rock, pal."

Peter grinned at him. "And here I thought I was the brains of this operation." **

* * *

**

**Two weeks later**

Aunt May had come by and was thoroughly chewing the guys out. They hadn't done their laundry yet-- it was in a monster of a pilethat took up nearly an entire corner of their small living room. They were living off of cold cans of Progresso and Chef Boyardee, and not a single box had been unpacked.

"But Aunt May, we've been looking for jobs! We haven't had time to move in!" Peter protested.

"Nonsense! You must have _some_ spare time!" An idea came to her, and she gave the young men an ultimatim. "If you two haven't at least unpacked the kitchen things and washed your clothes by the time I return in ten days, you two are moving home."

Harry's stomach lurched as memories of "home" came to him, unbidden. _Oh, hell no. I am NOT moving back there. Not even if I have to unpack that stuff by myself. Pete'll help pull his weight though. He always does._

"Now, you boys know well enough to call me if you need anything. Oh, and I brought you a fire extinguisher, in case you amateurs set your kitchen on fire," May said seriously, amused at the thought of either man trying to cook. Last time Peter had tried, he had set the stove on fire, putting a nice burn mark on the wall behind it. That was why they'd repainted their kitchen, not long before Ben died.

Harry grinned. "Thanks May. I don't think that'll happen though. While Pete was taking _another_ science course, I took a course on the science that is cooking." Peter stuck his tongue out at Harry, who responded in kind.

"Are you sure I don't need to seperate the two of you?" May teased. Both grinned, putting their tongues back where they belonged and whistled innocently. It was an inside joke. The men shared a very tight bond and had since they were little. It was easy for them to do the same thing at the same time, without being cued.

After May left, the men got to work. They put their dirty laundry in trash bags and hauled it down to the nearest laundromat. By the time the place closed, they had made a nice little dent in their laundry-monster. The two called it a day after getting the clean stuff put away and the trash bags full of dirty laundry tucked away for the next trip.

Within a few days, they had diminished the laundry to a reasonable amount. The unpacking of the kitchen utensils, appliances, and dishes followed without incident, except for a few jam sessions substituting pots for drums.

May's ultimatim had given Harry and Peter momentum, though, and the unpacking continued. So when May returned at the end of the ten days, she was surprised at the pilgrims' progress.

"Well, perhaps you boys can survive on your own after all," May said, smiling at them. "Oh, by the way, I got your message, Harry. Here's your new fire extinguisher. Just watch what temperature you turn the oven up to next time."

* * *

Lol! Will Pete and Harry ever learn to cook? Will Aunt May ever get a moment's peace? Will I quit asking questions cuz that is really annoying! Lemme know whatcha think.


	11. Do You Believe in Magic

Sorry for the long leave of absence. _Dodges rotten fruit and veggies_ EEP! Sure know how ta make a lady feel welcome, don'tcha? Seriously, this story just kinda shriveled up and died in a little corner of my head, and this is my pitiful attempt to give it CPR in hopes of reviving it.

ATTENTION: I re-wrote and re-posted chapter one. Check it out, because there are significant differences.

DISCLAIMER: Excuse me while I bawl my eyes out.

**Chapter Ten: Do You Believe in Magic**

Peter was stunned. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Harry had been dating MJ, and hadn't told him. Harry _never_ left him out of the loop on _anything_.

And to add insult to injury, he had heard it from MJ's own mouth.

It appeared Harry and him weren't the only ones keeping secrets though. Mary Jane had just revealed that she lived a double life as a waitress at a run-down little diner. _Ooo. Big secret,_ his inner smart-ass said, still feeling the pain of jealousy. None the less, he'd keep it a secret, just as she'd asked.

_Don't tell Harry. Poor guy. _He remained angry, however heartfelt that thought was;anger wasan easy method of hiding from himself a whirlwind of emotions he didn't want to pick apart and analyze just yet.

* * *

**At Home**

Something wasn't right. He felt it when he walked into the apartment building. His Spider-sense was going nuts. Peter went into the apartment he shared with Harry, and instantly found what had set it off.

Norman greeted him while having a conversation on the phone that was less than ten feet from the door.

On the other side of the room, looking rather miserable, Harry sat behind a desk. Peter crossed the room to his friend, who informed him somewhat bitterly, "Stormin' Norman's making his weekly inspection. He's spent half of it on the phone. I'm glad you're here. I need your help." He looked up from whatever he was concentrating on on the desk. "You alright? You look like you just got second place in the science fair," he teased.

"I uh, I was late for work and Dr. Connors fired me."

Harry grinned. "You were late again?" Peter nodded. "Who are you, and what have you done with Peter 'Punctual' Parker?"

Peter blushed. "I just, ya know, have other stuff that needs doing, Har."

Harry shook his head, still smiling. The mystery that now surrounded his best friend only made him that much more attractive.

"Peter Parker," Norman called, having hung up the phone. He strode toward the man in question as he spoke. "Maybe you'll tell me who she is."

"Who's that?" Peter asked.

"This mystery girl Harry's been dating." That brought back Peter's earlier conversation with MJ, and he felt angry and jealous all over again. Norman looked at Harry and asked, "When do I get to meet her?"

"Dad!" Harry exclaimed. This was getting on his nerves. The only reason he was dating a girl, much less Peter's crush, was because he had to at least put up a pretense of being straight. Otherwise the bruise on his shoulder hiding under his shirt would be a mere preview of the pain to come. His father had gotten bored during the portion of the visit he hadn't been on the phone, resulting in blows. Harry could deal with it, though. Since he and Peter had moved into the apartment it was rare for him to get a beating. Norman could only do it during the rare occasions that he visited while Peter was out and Harry was in.

Glaring at Harry, Peter said, "Sorry, Harry hasn't mentioned her."

_Is it just me, or are they ganging up on me?_ Harry thought as both of the other men's gazes remained on him. He felt at a disadvantage with both of them standing and him still sitting. _The least they could do is try me before they tell me to go to jail, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars._ He changed the subject as soon as he thought of something else. "Hey Pete, you're probably looking for a job now, right? Dad, maybe you can help him out."

Norman looked at the man and smiled. Peter looked from Harry to Norman and turned to walk away as he said, "No, I appreciate it, but I'll be fine."

"It's no problem, I'll make a few calls," the older Osborn said.

"No, I couldn't accept that, sir. I like to earn what I get, I can find my own work," Peter said, not liking the idea of working for someone who always set off his Spider-sense, or being indebted to him.

"I respect that," Norman said with an admiring look and a smile. "You wanna make it on your own steam. That's great. What other skills do you have, Parker?"

Inwardly, Harry didn't know whether to groan or smile. Norman's attention was off him now, which was a relief, and Peter always seemed to knew what to say, but what if he gave the wrong answer this time?

In the kitchen, he noticed that day's edition of the _Bugle_ sitting on the counter as he poured a glass of orange juice for himself. The headline read: _REWARD! For photos of Spider-Man._ Wide-eyed, he called back, "I was thinking of something in photography." Harry was glad he no longer lived with his father. Norman's face twisted in a nasty snarl and he stalked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. "What was that about?"

Harry shrugged.

* * *

**The Next Day **

Peter took in several photos he'd taken the previous night of himself as Spidey, and was told they were all crap. Jameson, the editor of the paper offered him two hundred for all of the photos. Peter knew they were worth more than that. "I think that's a little low."

"You can take them somewhere else then," Jameson replied. He talked briefly to his secretary over the phone, then barked, "Sit down! Gimme that. I'll give ya three hundred, standard freelance fee." He turned to a guy behind Peter, handing him a photo, and said, "Tear up page one, run that photo instead."

"Headline?" the man asked.

"Spider-Man: Hero or Menace, exclusive _Daily Bugle_ photos," Jameson answered.

Peter's eyes went wide. _What the! I can't believe this! _"Menace? He was protecting that armored car from-"

Jameson cut him off. "You take the photos, I'll make up the headlines. Is that alright with you, or do I have to kick you out of here?"

"Okay sir," came the relucatant reply. Peter couldn't afford for this _not _to work out. The apartment bills were already three weeks overdue.

"Goody." He filled out a check and instructed, "Give this to the girl up front, and she'll see you get paid."

"I'd like a job, sir."

"No job! Freelance! Best thing in the world for a kid your age," Jameson said. "You bring me some more shots of that newspaper-selling clown, maybe I'll take them off your hands." He got up slapped Peter on the back and with one hand on Peter's shoulder, led him out of the office. "But I never said you have a job! Fruitcake! A nice loaf of Christmas fruitcake, that's the best I can do for ya. Now get outta here, and bring me some more photos."

Peter collected his pay and left, lugging a heavy, rock-hard fruitcake with him.

* * *

**Day of the World Unity Festival**

Peter groaned. _Stupid alarm clock._

A few quick thumps on the wall seperating his room from Harry's let him know that he was not alone in his misery. For a moment, images of that screwed up Izma chick from that goofy animated Disney movie _The Emperor's New Groove_ flashed through the morning fog crowding Peter's brain. Izma smashing the box in the movie. Izma smashing his alarm clock. Him going back to sleep. Izma smashing his head.

_Darn._ That last image had woken him up. _Note to self: lay off the Disney movies. Potentially bad for mental health._

He slowly dragged himself out from under the covers. When his bare feet touched the cold hardwood floor, Peter almost gave up and got back in bed, but decided against it. He _did_ have to go patrol as Spider-man. It was bad enough he had gone to sleep earlier than usual. He couldn't miss the Unity Festival. The event practically begged for terrorists, thieves, and other unscrupulous characters. Plus he had to take photos for the _Daily Bugle_. But-_I'm so tired..._

Nonetheless, Peter sluggishly hauled himself over to his closet. His Spidey suit was still on from the previous night, most of which he had spent out on the streets fighting idiot criminals. So he tugged a random outfit on over that. Then he jammed his feet into his big dorky shoes, a clunky yellow pair his aunt had picked out for him. Figuring he was ready to go, he moved out to the kitchen for breakfast at a pace a turtle would have thought ridiculous.

Standing in the kitchen, Harry raised an eyebrow. _Pete's dead on his feet. Maybe he should skip going to the Unity Fair, today._

Peter opened a cupboard, blindly groped around for a few seconds, then took down a box of... Crystal Light powder packets, in lemonade flavor. He grabbed a bowl, and the cardboard carton of orange juice. Then he proceeded to upturn the box of juice-powder packets into the bowl. Just as he was about to take the cap off the orange juice container, Harry decided to take pity on the other man.

He grabbed the orange juice, the bowl, and the now empty box. Then he grasped Peter's arm to prevent him from trying to do anything else and said softly, "You don't have work today, Peter. Go back to sleep."

Peter didn't go back to his room. He remained planted to his spot, swaying slightly. So Harry grabbed Peter's shoulders and herded him over to the couch and gently pushed him down onto it. Instantly, the sleepy man curled into a tight ball in the corner of the couch. Within seconds, he was snoring quietly.

Harry shook his head. He retrieved a blanket and covered Peter before scribbling a note and slipping out the door.

**

* * *

**

**A few hours later**

Peter awoke reluctantly to Nature's call. After he took care of business, he noticed how late it was. Then he remembered that he was supposed to be going to the Unity Festival today with Harry. If he hurried, he could still make it. He had caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror, though, and definitely needed to change his clothes. There was nothing on this Earth that could persuade him to wear that stupid Care Bears shirt when he was in his right mind.

He recalled that they had been supposed to meet with Norman Osborn, and they were both supposed to wear suits. Peter quickly changed into the suit he'd laid out the night before. Then he dashed out the door of their apartment and down the street.

**

* * *

**

**At the World Unity Festival**

Peter had wound up having to switch to using his Spidey suit and web-slinging, because traffic was so backed up. _Thank God for backpacks,_ Peter thought as he webslung into an alley to put his suit back on. He made his way into the crowd of festival-goers and raised his camera to take pictures. With his camera, he spotted a couple people reading the day's edition of the _Bugle_, the headline this time reading: _Big Apple Fears Spider-bite._ He sighed. This stuff was getting old _really_ fast. He wandered away from there and snapped a photo of some people on a balcony above. Then, with his camera he saw Harry and Mary Jane. They looked like they were one step away from an argument. Peter could feel the tension from where he stood, two stories away.

"MJ," Harry said with a smile, "why didn't you wear the black dress? Just, I wanted to impress my father, and he loves black."

"Well, maybe he'll be impressed no matter what," she replied, miffed at the imagined implication that she wasn't good-looking. "You think I'm pretty."

He raised an eyebrow. "I think you're beautiful." He moved in to kiss her, and felt kind of relieved when she turned her head away. He noticed Peter standing on the crowded street below them, looking up at them. "MJ, would you do me a favor, I left my drink inside."

Just when MJ turned around to leave the balcony, seemingly still a tad upset, Peter's Spider-sense went off. He looked around and noticed a figure flying through the sky, leaving a smoky trail behind him. He flew close to the balcony MJ, Harry and a bunch of other people were on and threw a ball at it that blew up on contact.

Peter inwardly groaned. _Wouldn't you know it!_

A couple was standing beneath a falling slab that had once been part of the now-decimated balcony, and Peter quickly shot out some webbing and yanked them out of its way. Then he ran off into an alley, pulling his shirt off as he went.

He yanked his mask back on, stuffed his suit back into his pack, and launched himself back among the skyscrapers. When he returned to the messed up balcony two people were hanging on for their lives. One was a girl, screaming at the top of her lungs. Apparently heights didn't agree with her.

He gasped in horror when he saw who the girl was. Mary Jane._Oh dear God,_ he thought. _I can't lose her! _Then Spider-man heard an insane little cackle behind him. _The other person!_

Quickly, Spidey turned to save the other victim. Then he saw who it was.

He froze.

Peter had never realized what a necessity Harry was in his life, until that moment. Dangling from the crumbling edge of the stone balcony, was Harry. The madman on his little floaty thing getting ready to throw another bomb at the area. He was trying to pull himself up onto what was left of the surface he'd been standing on earlier, but couldn't.

_Move, or you'll lose him!_ Spider-man mentally yelled at himself.

He swung into action. The bomb hit part of the remains of the balcony, and causing it to go crashing down with the rest. The area below had long since cleared of people. Just then, Harry pulled himself up onto what little was left of the ledge. Just then a piece of falling debris fell and hit Harry on the head. The curly-haired young man went limp, and Peter hoped to God he wasn't dead. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. Must act faster when people I care about are in danger. If Harry hadn't pulled himself up..._ He got an unpleasant image in his head, of Harry going splat on the pavement beneath the balcony.

Spider-Man swung over when the nut in green armor advanced on MJ, and kicked hard enough to knock him off the glider. The guy fell, but the glider went flying into a big balloon. A little boy was standing beneath it, staring up. He made no move to run from the popped balloon about to fall on him, so Spider-Man swung down, saved him, and returned the boy to the woman he assumed was his mother.

Then he got in a little fist-fight with the creep in green, and was sent flying. That bought the guy enough time to get back on his glider, and once he was, he chased after Spidey, with bullets shooting from it. A rocket came out of it, but Spidey managed to dodge everything, with help from his spider-sense. He webslung himself up onto a balloon, still chased by the psycho. A scream distracted him.

"Mary Jane!" he shouted.

"Help me, someone please help me!" she screamed as she clung to the slab she was on, which dangled from the broken balcony.

He jumped across on the balloons and leapt toward MJ, only to have his opponent crash into him from behind, slamming him into the large stained glass window in front of him. The creep grabbed his head and slammed it into what was left of that part of the window a few times before Spider-Man freed himself by elbowing the other in the head. They exchanged several more blows, then Spider-Man was knocked down out of the other's reach. He took the opportunity to yell, "Hold on," to MJ.

"Watch out!" she yelled back, pointing to someplace behind him. He turned in time to spray some webbing to cover his opponent's creepy yellow eyes, giving him time to yank some wires out of the underbelly of the glider the other was still on. Barely managing to stay on the thing then, the other flew off on the crazily twisting object as he yelled, "We'll meet again, Spider-Man!"

Just then the piece of the balcony MJ had been on gave, and he had to dive to catch her. Then he shot some webbing to keep them from hitting the unforgiving pavement below. He looked down and noticed, grimacing, that a big crowd had formed beneath them. No way was he landing down there with _that_ mob. Nope. Instead he found a nice safe garden in which to deposit her, and when she asked him who he was hegrinned behind his mask as he replied, "You know who I am."

"I do?" That thought seemed to mystify her.

"Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!"

And with that, he swung off through the urban jungle, muttering, "Stupid stupid stupid! Harry could've died up there today! Stupid stupid stupid!"

* * *

**Next Day**

Peter glared at the headline of the morning edition of the _Bugle._ How could they say such things about Spider-Man? The paper accused him of being in cahoots with the green-clad idiot who had attacked at the the Unity Festival the previous day, saying both of them had terrorized the Festival-goers. _That's a load of crap!_ Peter thought angrily.

"It won't burst into flames no matter how long you glare at it," Harry said from behind him, startling the other man.

Peter turned, and noticed Harry's amusement. For some reason his best friend got a real kick out of seeing him mad. Harry had once told him that it was because proof that Peter _had_ a temper was rare. He disagreed, but couldn't convince the other.

"So why are you trying to set it on fire this time?"

The shorter man sighed and muttered, "I dunno, maybe 'cuz Jameson's _villainizing_ the guy that's been keeping this city safe for the past several months."

Harry grinned as he took the seat opposite his friend. "Never knew you were so into 'justice for all.' You know, you've been acting weird today. This morning when I got up you almost hugged the life outta me, and muttering all day about being happy I'm alive. There something you wanna tell me?"

"You could've died yesterday. I'm just happy you're not," Peter replied. Then glared down at the newspaper again. "Too bad Jameson can't see the silver lining in stuff."

* * *

Ooooo... Looks like Spidey is starting to notice he has feelings for Harry, too. Will MJ put a stop to it? 


End file.
